Postcards from a fashioniser in Morocco.

There’s something utterly exhilarating about dropping yourself into a completely foreign culture, somewhere where Western culture hasn’t completely permeated. If we’re honest, Western culture has had an impact upon every single corner of the globe. Having spent some weeks in China this year, I can tell you first hand that you have to be far removed from an urban centre not to spot a Louis Vuitton monogram or a Burberry check. The same is true of Morocco’s urban centres – fake, overly branded goods are hawked everywhere. Western culture has made its impact felt in Morocco. But the way its society organises itself, the way Moroccans go about their days, isn’t what you’d label as being Western. Morocco is one of the few countries I’ve travelled to where I felt completely foreign. Thankfully.

The reality is that, despite how deft Morocco’s urban centres are at enticing tourists, once you’re metres from an urban centre, once you’ve departed a souq, everything changes. There are no fakes. There are no vendors looking for your custom. You’re a foreigner walking ancient walls, or howling down a highway with a remote mountain range gradually growing bigger in the horizon.

Earlier this year I headed to Marrakech and the near-by Atlas Mountains. Below are some of my photos from the trip. You can also see pictures from my recent photo diary from New York at that link.